I'll Bring the Wine
by JunieMT
Summary: After a long week of work, Bella stops to pick up a bottle of wine for a Friday evening occasion. A flirtatious encounter at the store forces her to remember a past crush--but who? Might not be who you think! All human Fun O/S Happy Valentine's Day!


**A/N: Gotta thank my friend Dee for her support and all the time she takes to stop and read and laugh with me! This is a timely one shot that is meant to celebrate love, friendship, and the journey of both in life. Laugh about your past and embrace your future! Enjoy!**

**We all remember Jasper's last name is Whitlock, right?**

****I don't own Twilight or the characters. We all know who does and how nice she is to lend them out to us!****

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I'll Bring the Wine

I can feel the heat of his glances as I stand here reading the label of the bottle of Merlot I have just picked up off the shelf.

Knowing a guy was _checking me out_ was a learned trait, in my case, and a more recent phenomenon. I peek out of the corner of my eye and see he is using one of those tiny shopping carts that already holds two six-packs of Vitamin R and a bottle of Smirnoff.

It is Friday evening after a long week at work at the law firm where I have worked for two years since graduating college. Most of my days this week were spent on the phones and putting contracts together as the ever-trying-to-prove-herself-by-working-hard-and-not-complaining paralegal, while the lawyers at my Seattle firm found time for long lunches at trendy restaurants. The week was behind me now, and I just needed to pick up a bottle of wine to bring with me tonight to _the occasion_, so I decided to investigate the selection at the new large liquor warehouse not far from the firm. I strolled down the aisles casually. I wasn't a frequent visitor to liquor stores, but a few trips to California wineries over the years gave me a decent basis for choosing wines.

I place the Merlot back on the shelf just as the champagne on the shelves to my left catches my eye.

_Ooooooohhh champagne. _I smile thinking of the last time I had champagne over a month ago; it was served at the swanky New Year's party my law firm threw at the Space Needle. It was clearly top shelf champagne served that night. It was sweet and went down easily, enhancing my ability to whirl around the dance floor. Instead of champagne I pick up a Cabernet Sauvignon from California.

He's making his third glance at me. I keep my head down letting my long, blonde hair cloak my face as I stare at the bottle in hand very intentionally. He has moved his way over toward me, and I grin at the thought that I am supposed to believe he is now looking at wines based on his current alcohol arsenal on display in the cart that screams he is going home to a fish fry rather than an occasion. He picks up a bottle of Pinot Noir and begins to feign an interest in it.

That's when I know it is coming-the ice breaker. I brace myself for the creativity, _or lack thereof_, that is about to eclipse.

"So red or white?" he asks.

"Hmmm?" I reply looking up toward his face.

"Red. White. How do you decide between the two?" he continues.

"Well it depends…" I respond quietly.

"On what?" he asks, as he flashes an inviting smile.

"On if you are buying it for yourself or someone else," I reply sweetly and smile back at him.

"So let's say I was buying a bottle to drink with dinner I would be having with you, which should I buy?" he asks in a throaty voice, now moving closer to me.

And that is when his innocent approach crosses the line into a flirtation, or an invitation, even. I decide to play along with him because I realize I can.

Obviously, his recognition is absent.

~X~

Not five minutes earlier I had spoken on the phone with my best friend, Rose.

"Sooooo," she begins in a sweet sing-song way, "what are we up to tonight?" She's being cheeky and prying at the same time. I knew the "we" did not refer to Rose and me.

"I'm heading back to Port Angeles. Did you have any doubts?" I giggled.

"You sperm-burping bitch! I haven't seen you since Monday and you are going to leave me hanging on tonight of all nights! How did your new hair color go over this week?"

I laughed at her reaction.

"Well, Ms Lipsarown Hyscok, my hair has been warmly received." I smiled knowing how many times I had caught people I've known for 2 years at work do a double take this week.

"It should, you look damn good as a blonde. I've been saying you would for years!"

"Yes I know—ever since camp," I snickered.

"How do you feel with it?" She asked, basking in the satisfaction of her own work.

"Mostly like a Barbie clone," I responded sarcastically.

"Sperm-burping Barbie!" she roared with laughter then caught her breath. "Well listen, I was talking to a few people from work today who don't have plans for tonight so I invited them over for sort of a singles mixer. Call me later if you think you are going to find your way back to Seattle."

"No way! Is Shitlock going to be there?" I demanded.

She giggled, and knowing her the way I did, I had my response.

"Oh Rose, you have got to stop screwing around with him!"

"I'll think about it," she giggled. "Come on Bella, cut me some slack, today of all days."

"Is he bringing his new roommate, Emmett?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. He's going to blow Shitlock out of the water!"

I had witnessed Emmett's reaction to Rosalie when we were introduced three weeks ago. He seemed shy though laughed often, nervously. He did not shower Rosalie with attention but at some point tried to tap me for information about her. I sized him up deciding I liked him and approved of his intentions before I supplied him with three key details to unlocking Rose's heart—her favorite flowers, taste in music, and preferred alcoholic beverage. I knew he was trying to get to her through me like so many guys had done in the past, but he was much more genuine than any other guy who had showed interest in her so I decided I didn't mind.

"What do you mean?" Rose asked. I could hear her narrowing her eyes at me in suspicion.

"Oh Rose, how many times have I told you that you need a guy who is willing to cater to you and not just his own ego? Trust me, Shitlock will show up with a six-pack of Vitamin R and expect you to come undone for him tonight. I have much higher hopes for Emmett."

"You know, I used to be the one helping you with all the guy stuff," she whined.

"Yep and now I'm just returning the favor! Oh hey, if I don't see you sooner I'll definitely see you Sunday at your mom and dad's for dinner."

"Ugh, he's not my dad Bella. He's just some guy who insisted on marrying my mom and dragging his douche of a son and annoying, whiney daughter along to make my life miserable," Rosalie continued with her whining.

"Well I'll be sure to relay your colorful descriptions of Edward and Alice on to them on Sunday. Just because he never showed any interest in you doesn't mean he's a douche. Besides that would have just been Greg and Marcia weird! Speaking of Alice, isn't she coming home from college tonight? She might be able to make it to your little shindig."

"Uggghhh. Bella why do you insist on making me be so nice to her?"

"Because she's always been nice to me and you—including the time she got her dad to write a prescription for her that was really for you," I replied heavy with implication.

"Okay, okay. We soooo do _not_ need to go there. And are you not concerned about Edward's plans for this evening?"

"No, not really. Let that douche fend for himself." I laughed, and Rosalie joined me in hysterics.

"Text me later, okay whorie?" I pleaded, secretly anticipating Emmett showing up tonight.

"Bitch, out!" she responded.

~x~

The summer after my junior year in high school I worked at a summer camp in Port Angeles where I met my best friend to this day, Rosalie Pale. She went to Port Angeles High School only a short distance away from Forks, where I grew up in a small house with my parents, Renee and Charles. Prior to meeting her, I had never full out witnessed anyone attract as much attention from guys as she did. She was tall with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She was glowing, always smiling, and essentially Barbie in the flesh. She wasn't the type of girl I would have been friends with at Forks High School, and to this day sometimes I'm not sure why we ever became friends that summer or how our friendship has endured.

Forks has that boring, small town feel of normalcy, but Port Angeles is more exciting, with more interesting and complicated people, and definitely more to do, so when I met her at camp it didn't surprise me that she was from a blended family because her mom had just remarried. It also didn't surprise me that Rosalie was sexually experienced and had recently broken it off with her fiancée. Yes, a fiancée at 17 years old! It seemed the biggest thing we had in common at first was that her dad used to live in Forks and she was familiar with the town's biggest place to eat—the lodge.

We were assigned to monitor an arts and crafts table the very first day at camp. I sat at a picnic table with the younger kids while Rosalie took the helm with directions for the craft. That is when it started-my special attribute that I had yet to be able to master to cease.

"Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup."

"Hic-cup. Hic-cup. Hic-cup." The kids mocked me.

The younger kids looked over at me and giggled their 9 to 11 year old heads off. Rosalie glared at me like I was intentionally interrupting her. What a primadonna I told myself. Big deal. I tended to get the hiccups a little more often than the average person. After 5 minutes of hiccups Rosalie looked over at me and narrowed her eyes.

"Are you planning on doing that ALL summer?" She asked.

"Maybe," I said embarrassed that she was addressing this in front of the kids.

She asked me to take over and said she would be right back. When she returned she had a drinking straw and bottle of water in her hand.

"Here," she said, "watch me!"

She took the straw out of the paper wrapper and placed it horizontal in her mouth keeping it in place with her teeth. Then she drank water letting it run over the straw. She handed me the straw.

I copied her exactly while all the kids watched intently. I was still hiccuping as I placed the straw between my lips. I took two long gulps. As I drank the water only half of it made it into my mouth and the rest dribbled down my chin. I wiped it away with my arm.

The kids waited around the picnic table in anticipation of the outcome.

"They stopped," I said. The kids started clapping. I blushed severely and then laughed as I realized Rosalie had a friendly laugh going also.

Two nights later Rosalie showed up in my cabin asking if she could bunk with me. "That other girl snores, and I can't cure that!"

Rosalie's attraction to the other boys at camp was obvious, which made my plain self seem even more evident in comparison. I was inexperienced in most ways, except for a few dates with Ben, a boy who had professed his undying love to me since the second grade. My mother used to tell me, "Bella, he's a nice boy. Give him a chance." So occasionally I did, even though I was still hoping Bryan, a boy who seemingly liked me in 3rd grade was the one pledging his undying love to me, but he had climbed the social status over the years and had long forgotten his crush on me. I guess I was to him what Ben was to me—minus any dates.

Rosalie was experienced in what I thought was all ways at the time. My two good friends in Forks, Jessica and Angela, were nearly as inexperienced as me. Jessica had a five-month-long relationship with Mike Newton as a freshman because they both played drums in the band, but that was before he quit the marching band and joined the football team sophomore year, instantly making him cooler than she or the rest of us were ever going to be in high school. Angela lusted after Tyler, a boy who was one year older than us and probably the most popular guy in the school. I didn't want to shoot down her hopes, but we didn't live in the movie "Sixteen Candles." I knew that Tyler didn't give my quiet, bookworm friend a second glance. Not that he wasn't giving me one either. I wasn't trying to be mean about her crush. I was just a realist, I suppose. Like Bryan, Tyler was at the top of the social ladder and enjoyed being there. Surely he thought dating someone like Angela would lower his stock.

As we worked together at camp that summer I watched as guys approached Rosalie. I listened to the things they said. When I was standing there, most guys were never really talking to me, though Rosalie was always quick to include me in conversation. As the summer went on, I realized Rosalie was not just beautiful but also fun, kind, and nice. She wasn't fake like Lauren, the most popular girl in my class at school. And when she met my high school friends, Jessica and Angela, Rosalie was perfectly friendly, not treating them like they were in any way beneath her—the same way she treated me.

Being friends with Rosalie added a certain irony to my life that summer. I had always felt practically invisible to guys that I was attracted to. Now I was at least on their radar due to my proximity to Rosalie, yet I felt even more invisible realizing that I stood there less than two feet away from guys who were smiling and talking but none of the attention was ever directed at me. Next to Rosalie I was utterly plain- straight brown hair that didn't hold a curl, or even some waviness, longer than 2 hours with maximum hold hairspray, dark brown eyes set deep within my face that made no attempt to twinkle, and lips too large for my face, the product of biting my lips too much as a child. I was too thin, short, scrawny, constantly pale and, worst of all, wore glasses. Score one for me; my teeth were at least straight having just gotten the braces taken off in May. Oh, and though I was expected to chaperone hikes and coach soccer games at the camp, I was far from graceful or athletic.

Oh and our last names—how is that for irony? I should be Bella Pale. She should be Rosalie Swan.

I stood by and watched, or more like studied, how various guys made plays for Rosalie that summer—from the boisterous forward approaches the good looking guys made to the awkward lines even the more timid guys used in an effort to converse with her. At some point I realized that I was more attuned to the looks she received and the attempts that were made than she was. You see, the constant attention from guys was an everyday part of Rosalie's life—as constant as the existence of the sun each day. Like the sun, as long as it was there in the background, she went about her normal day without giving it a second thought. And like the sun, it was only in its absence that she realized something was lacking in her day. Though maybe that is not the _best_ analogy for the area we lived in where it was always foggy and overcast, but still we knew the sun did rise each morning.

One thing Rosalie confided in me early on that summer that the boys at camp did not know was that she was not looking for a boyfriend. After her recent breakup with her serious relationship, she was trying to take a break from any form of relationship. Still she flirted and flaunted, and most guys willingly engaged in what little attention she was willing to give them. Instead of taking any guys up on their offers, she put her efforts into encouraging me to have a summer romance.

"C'mon Bella, tell me who you like at this place. It's been three weeks here," she said to me one night in the cabin.

"I don't know, I mean there are a lot of cute guys here, but I haven't really made any connections."

"Screw the connections Bella! Isn't there any guy that just made you stop in your tracks and hold your uterus tight?"

"Well, maybe. I mean not quite that much, but I am really….intrigued, I guess you could call it with that one boy who is here from the reservation."

"Oooooohhhh, Bella likes the russet skin mysterious boys," she teased. "Which one, Jacob or Quil?"

I remember blushing when I said Jacob.

"Really? You even like that long dark hair?"

"It is just that he was really nice to me."

"So you've talked to him?"

"Yeah, he was handing out flyers about a truck he is trying to sell. He told me how he fixed it up himself—rebuilt the engine or something. Oh, and he said to give a flyer to you too."

"And did he ask you any personal questions?"

"He asked me what high school I went to."

"Ohhhh that's a good sign, and so now you've got like a little crush on him?"

"I just thought he had a friendly smile and was easy to talk to, and he and his friend don't act like they are too good to talk to anybody the way some guys are."

"Well we are going to get you your man, then!"

"How?" I asked.

"Oh I'll think of something." Rosalie smiled about her new mission.

Two days later Rose stood by and watched as Jacob and Quil approached me in the mess hall holding the flyer about the truck.

"Hey Rose! So Bella, Rose says you are interested in buying my truck?"

"She did?" I asked surprised. Rose chuckled and elbowed me.

"Well you can come take a look at it this weekend at the reservation if you want. I'm going to be home for the weekend."

"Sure. I'll see if my Dad can come take a look at it."

"You should come too Rose," he added. "Maybe you guys could stay for a bonfire at First Beach."

Rose nodded her head yes, grinning in satisfaction of her work.

After they left I reamed Rose out, but I couldn't argue with her response. "C'mon you don't have to buy the truck. This is perfect. I'll drive us over in my car that way your Dad can leave and then we can leave whenever we want."

We packed up and stayed at my house that weekend arriving late Friday afternoon. Renee took to Rosalie right away and I tried to explain to Charlie why I was interested in buying an old Chevy truck minus the Jacob factor.

"Bella, we told you we want you to have a safe car to drive," Charlie started.

"Well I just thought we could look at it Dad. I mean they don't make'em like they used to, right?" I joked, thinking this was a bad plan. The only way to get to meet up with Jacob was to bring my Dad?

"No way Bells. Your mother and I have already got a nice safe Volvo in mind for you. You just have to pick out the color," he replied. I was defeated when it came to arguing with my parents over my safety.

Renee fixed us each a cup of tea and we sat around the kitchen table. The pearls of wisdom started to flow from my ever-charming junior-Friday club mother. _Brace yourself Rosalie_.

"Listen girls," Renee began. _Yep, here it comes. "_When it comes to men and cars, you have to only keep one thing in mind—use your champagne taste."

"What?" Rosalie cracked up laughing.

I shook my head at my mother and laughed at Rosalie. "Welcome to my crazy house!" I sang knowing my mother would just continue.

"Oh yeah!" Renee responded. "Bella, sweetie, tell your friend here what your father and I drink every Friday night with dinner."

I rolled my eyes. "Champagne," I responded.

"Right, because girls when it comes to men and cars it is easy to get caught up in the various red and white wines to select from but when you settle down to make the right choice, you go directly for the good stuff-champagne. That is why Charlie and I are still together. I could have picked Phil Ritter, Mr. Red Wine or Michael Newton, Mr. White Wine but I had finer tastes! When it comes to men there is no such thing as champagne taste on a beer budget. It would do you both well to remember that! You want a guy in life who is in it for you. When he joins a room full of people he comes looking for you first before he acknowledges anyone else."

"What Mom, there was no Mr. Vitamin R?" I teased.

"Oh there were plenty of them too sweetie. These days I like to call them divorcees, miserable, or bachelors for life." She winked at Rosalie.

Rosalie and I planned to still go look at the truck just to have a chance to hang out with Jacob. She drove us to the reservation the next day. I faked an interest in the truck as Jacob popped the hood and showed us all the work he had done. We told him my father couldn't make it but I would try to get him to come a different day. I lied so we could stay for the bonfire, but as it started to rain he informed us the bonfire would be postponed.

Back at camp for another next week we invited Jacob and Quil to sit with us at lunch and dinner in the mess hall on Monday and, though we laughed and the conversation flowed easily, I never felt like Jacob Black looked at me adoringly, the way I saw other guys look at Rosalie. I decided most of their attention was directed at Rose. Not wanting to make Rose feel bad, I took everything on myself. That night in the cabin I lied and told Rose that I didn't think I was interested in Jacob any longer. I told her another guy had caught my attention then refused to say who it was. The truth was there wasn't another guy.

"Really?" she asked. "I mean he and his friend are kind of nice. Not my type at all but whatever you are into is fine."

I pined for Jacob Black the rest of the summer. We didn't go out of the way to talk to them, but on the last day of camp he sought me out to talk to me.

"So we are rescheduling that bonfire at the reservation if you and your friend want to come this weekend," he said.

"Sorry. I know I've got plans with the family. Rose might be able to come though," I responded through the butterflies.

"Okay well let her know. Hey, what about the truck? Still thinking about it?" he asked smiling.

"No, my Dad wants me to get a Volvo. I'm really sorry," I apologized.

"Don't be sorry," he laughed. "It does have a high safety rating. What color are you getting?" he asked still seeming interested.

"I'm not sure."

"Well you should try to get something light in color, like white or silver, so it can be seen better at night, okay? If you change your mind do you still have the flyer?"

I shook my head no. He pulled one out from his back pocket and handed it to me.

"Hold onto it. My number is on it. Bye!" He waved as he walked away.

Had I been wrong about Jacob Black? Did we just have a nice conversation without Rosalie in proximity? Does he want me to call him? And about what? The bonfire, the truck, or anything?

Camp ended that summer, and Rosalie and I went back to our separate lives and separate schools checking in with each other periodically. Once school started she decided she was going to start dating again. I was driving my silver Volvo to school every day, often picking up Jessica and Angela who did not have cars yet. Their summers seemed as uneventful as mine, though I had filled them in on my crush.

One January morning the principal came over the loudspeaker to make an announcement.

"Good Morning students! You may have heard about the devastating fires that occurred on the nearby Quileute reservation. Their school was damaged in the fire and will be undergoing renovations. In the meantime, students are being relocated to area high schools. Starting this week there will be several new students in your classes. We expect that you are all welcoming of them and remember we have a zero tolerance policy for any form of discrimination."

I looked over at Jessica and Angela in homeroom.

"Do you think that guy Jacob will come here?" Jessica asked.

"I don't know." I replied as the butterflies pooled in my stomach at the thought of seeing him.

The rest of the week Jessica, Angela, and I lingered in the parking lot waiting to see if he would arrive. Students from the reservation did start to filter in but not him.

"What's he like?" Angela asked me at lunch on Wednesday.

"He's nice. He is really easy to talk to and has a friendly smile. He's definitely not all stuck up like Tyler or Newton." I flinched realizing I probably just insulted Angela. "I'm sorry, Ang."

"No, it's okay. I'm over Tyler. He'll never get over himself. In fact, I was going to ask you if you wouldn't mind if I showed some interest in Ben. We seem to do well together as biology partners this year."

"I definitely don't mind Ang. He's a sweet guy," I told her.

On Friday there was a new car that pulled up into the lot, standing out amongst the other cars—a bright yellow Paseo. You just could not miss it pulling in. I watched as Jacob Black and three other boys got out and began horsing around with each other. It was definitely his face, but he looked so different. His hair was short. He was taller. He was very nicely built.

I froze as Jessica approached me.

"Hey, what's going on?" she asked.

"That's him," I whispered to her, throwing my glance his way.

"Which one?" she replied. After I pointed him out, Jessica responded with a, "Wow!" I told her how different he looked from the summer.

"Well you are going to talk to him, right? After all, Bella, you know him. You have something going for you that no other girl at this school does right now. Come on." She dragged me over to the group of guys.

I took a deep breath. "Hey Jacob," I called through my cracking voice, still a good ten feet away. All of the guys looked over at me and then to Jacob.

"Camp girl?" He asked looking at me like I was the one who looked so differently.

"Ummm…yeah. I go by Bella here." I said trying to shake off the hurt that I felt thinking he didn't remember my name. "Wow, you look really different."

He scoffed out in conceit, "Yeah I guess so."

"So you are going here now?" I asked.

"It looks that way," he replied with a sneer.

It didn't feel like the conversation was flowing too well. In fact, it felt like I was bothering him to talk to him. I tried to come up with something better to say to him.

"Did you ever sell your truck?" I asked.

"Yeah, Quil bought it," he replied.

"Oh, is he coming to Forks too for school?"

"No he starts at Port Angeles High next week."

"Oh good, well at least he'll know Rosalie there," I answered.

"WHAT? I thought she went to school here with you! Aren't you two like best friends?" Jacob growled. There was a collective moan and groan from the group.

"Nope. We met at camp and she isn't from Forks. This is my friend Jessica, though." Jessica did a little wave and smile to the four boys standing in front of us.

With that one of the other guys punched Jacob in the arm. "You dog! We should have gone to Port Angeles. You said that hot chick would be here!"

"So is Rosalie dating anyone?" Jacob asked me.

_Ugghh!_ I knew this feeling that washed through me. Jessica stared up at me. She knew what I was thinking too.

"Why? Are you interested in her?" I snapped at him, surprised by my reaction.

"Sure," he smiled smugly, "but more importantly, I think she would be rather interested in these." With that he flexed his biceps. His posse laughed and gave each other high fives.

"Well she told me over the summer that you definitely weren't her type," I spat hoping to bruise his ego in front of his friends.

"Whoa! Ohhhhhhhh! Disssed!" The other three boys howled, laughing collectively.

"Come on guys, let's go, " he instructed them to follow him. "When you see her, tell her to call me. I'm guessing you still have my number." He laughed, but I felt like he was laughing at me in front of his friends. They walked on toward the cafeteria.

"So that was the nice guy, huh?" Jessica asked me.

"No. That isn't him… but I guess it is. I guess the whole time he just wanted Rosalie like every other guy I met at camp."

I was crushed and managed to avoid Jacob Black as much as possible. It wasn't too hard because we didn't have any classes together. He sat with other kids from the reservation during lunch. By April, the school at the reservation had been deemed safe, and the boys returned to the reservation for classes.

I was never jealous of Rose—she was always trying to build me up to believe in myself and be more outgoing with guys. It just all came so naturally to her. It wasn't her fault, really. We ended up going to college together in Seattle after she begged me.

"Come on Bella, college will be more fun with you there. Besides, you are going to need me. Don't go all the way to the East Coast for college; just go to Seattle and we can room together and have a great time."

I agreed. Rosalie was often hard to refuse, especially when she told me how much I was going to be able to help her make it through school. It wasn't until our sophomore year in college that Rosalie's roommate, _the Swan_, surfaced and started attracting maybe half the attention Rose always knew. Rose had always maintained that if I got contacts and dyed my hair blond I would be _in the game_, as she put it. I was always skeptical about the blond hair but I did get contacts, and as I entered my twenties my features seemed to fall into place and work together. The lips I had always thought too large were suddenly full and voluptuous. Rosalie called them Angelina Jolie lips. My scrawny form had curves to it, and I had managed to grow to a record 5' 9" height, only two inches shorter than Rose's model statuesque. I learned how to apply a subtle amount of makeup, enough that I didn't look like a pale vampire day in and day out. As my confidence kicked in, Rose and I became two unstoppable, sought after bitches, sort of. She could still have any guy she wanted.

I never had the slew of ongoing guys she did, but Rosalie's time with guys was short. My heart needed a longer term. Now out of college and sharing an apartment, I still maintain that she is prettier than me, but our attitudes toward men are very different. To her the attention is still comparable to the sun. She still dailies way too much in Mr. Vitamin Rs, though she knows I would never let her settle for anything less than champagne. To me the attention I receive from guys is more appreciated, valued, and recognized, and I've had an easier time than Rose sorting through all of it.

~x~

So yeah, now I know with keen awareness when I guy is admiring me or trying to make an advance. And I also know exactly who it is standing here in the wine aisle trying to flirt with me tonight, even if he doesn't recognize me. I suddenly feel triumphant, empowered, and ridiculously spiteful. I look up at his face feeling the orneriness in my eyes and make my offensive play.

"I'm sorry. Do I know you?" I ask him.

He is taken aback. I catch him off guard. I smile to myself. _Good!_

"I don't think so," he replies. Surely he doesn't.

He recomposes himself and smirks as if to say I'd like to know you, or perhaps he thinks I am flirting with him. He's clearly not discouraged.

"So which would it be for you? Red or white?" He is asking me again.

"Neither," I say and smirk, "actually, I prefer champagne."

I place the bottle of wine back on the shelf and instead turn toward my left to pick up a bottle of Dom's. I turn on my heel and head out of his view toward the cashier. At the register the cashier, an older gentleman, nods and flashes a warm smile to me, "special day." I hand him my credit card and grin back at him.

"Well you never know where the night will take you, but I suddenly feel like I'm in the mood to celebrate." I wink at him. He smiles in return and hands my card back to me just as I realize he is behind me in line.

I put my credit card back in my Coach wallet and sling my bag over my shoulder. With package in hand, I turn to give my admirer a big smile.

"Enjoy your evening Jacob Black. Nice to see me again, I bet." I smirk as I float out the door, elated with myself.

As I get in my car, I briefly consider calling Rose but realize she has already texted me.

_You SBB_

_OMG Emmett brought_

_purple daisies Not roses!_

_Sangria_

_tix to see Paramore nxt wk_

_What did U do?_

I smile as I text Rose back. Can you imagine how many countless times Rose has been given roses over the years by guys who thought they were being original, clever even?

_What did Shitlock bring?_

She responds.

_Vit R_

I laugh out loud and respond for the last time.

_Loser!_

_Gv Em a chance—Cham taste rmbr?_

_See U Sunday. XOXO!_

Rose gets one last text in.

_Happy XOXO SBB!_

I'm on cloud 9 and keyed up so I veer out of the parking lot and jump back on the highway, purring with excitement and ready for the occasion. I park and grab my purchase. As I approach his apartment, I wonder if he has made it home yet. _Should I let myself in or ring the bell. _I decide on the latter.

He must have been waiting for me. I hear the clickety-clack of his gallop down the hardwood stairs just before the door opens.

A smile graces his beautiful face as he greets me.

"Hi baby," he says as he pulls me in through the door very close to him and kisses me.

He pulls away and I can feel my blush accompanying my drunk-on-smitten, shit-faced grin.

"Hi," I whisper back to him almost breathless.

He caresses my chin and then strokes my hair, taking a few strands and intertwining them between his long fingers.

"Blonde," he murmurs as he smirks and shakes his head, as if to say he still can't get over the change.

I'm still smiling—still lost in smitten. Then I'm accosted by such sweet and pleasant fragrances just after he closes the door behind me, and I can hear the soft concert music playing. I'm about to ask him about it but he starts talking first.

"So, how was the wine selection?" He grins as we stand in the downstairs foyer of his place and takes my package from me.

"Fine, but actually, I decided I was in the mood for champagne," I respond.

"Really?" He sounds surprised. "Celebrating something?" he asks in a teasing way as he helps me take my coat off and hangs it on the peg under the shelf.

"You tell me, you said this was an occasion," I smile sheepishly.

"I did, didn't I? Well only because Hallmark called to remind me." He laughs as he takes my hand and leads me up the stairs that open immediately to his living room. At the top of the steps he pauses and holds his hand out for me to go first.

I stand breathless at the site of several soft white candles illuminating the room and several vases, each one filled with different colored flowers. I look around taking in the vibrant room that has been transformed by the different splashes of colors-purple, yellow, pink, blue, and white that stand out against the lush dark green of his living room carpet.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" he whispers to me as he wraps his arms around me from behind, locking me in tight with the bottle of champagne, and nuzzles into my neck.

I gasp, feeling breathless again at the site.

"It's…it's so beautiful," I manage to get out, though I feel speechless.

He unlocks his strong arms and tells me he is going to put the champagne on ice. I stand in awe and make my way around the room holding back my hair each time I bend down to smell a different vase full of flowers.

He returns and takes in my reaction, then pulls me to the center of the room where he proceeds to get down on one knee. He looks up at me with his piercing eyes and opens a small black box.

My breath hitches—I'm surprised and awed—completely enthralled at the site of a sparkly, dazzling, marquis-cut diamond ring with surrounding smaller diamonds.

"Bella Swan, I love you. You're everything to me, and I want to be everything to you. Will you marry me?"

"Champagne was _definitely_ the right choice," I reply.

"Is that a yes?" he asks.

"Yes, Edward. I'll marry you." I grin and say without reservation.

"Yes?" He asks again as his crooked smile moves into a full out smirk.

"Yes! Yes!" I reply as he lifts me off the ground and twirls me around in the air, without yet placing the ring on my hand. I laugh and he grins until he places me back on the floor and leans in slowly to kiss me. I kiss him back deeply, passionately. As I lose myself in him I feel the drawer on my past closing and embrace my future wholeheartedly.

A/N: Who did you think was going to answer the door? Lush green carpet with flowers everywhere-sounds like an inside meadow, no? lol

So a case of sweet revenge? Maybe.

Wishing you all Champagne taste in your Valentine!


End file.
